


Moments

by leopion



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Deathly Hallows AU, F/M, Fluff, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 08:40:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leopion/pseuds/leopion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is more than just a journey with a start and an end; it is a collection of moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moments

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who nominated me this year and to the mods for organising this wonderful fest! It is truly an honour to be here!
> 
> Massive thanks to Sam and Michelle for being my wonderfully supportive betas, especially when I've been feeling a bit like Hermione in this story.

Hermione’s heart sank. The elation at their discovery about Gryffindor’s sword was quickly dissipating. The thudding of the rain on the canvas roof of the tent was growing louder and so were the raised voices of her friends. Deep down, some part of her had always known that this was coming. Ron had never bothered to hide his dissatisfaction, which bordered on resentment at times, in their private talks; and Hermione herself had admitted to some level of disappointment. But why now, when they were finally making progress?

Ron was rapidly spewing accusations at Harry, his expression grimmer than she had ever seen on him. “I just hoped, you know, after we’d been running round a few weeks, we’d have achieved something.”

“Ron,” said Hermione quietly, at the same time as another voice joined in.

“I will never say this again, but Weasley has a point.”

All three heads turned towards the small kitchen, where Malfoy was leaning back against his chair with his arms crossed. In the heat of the moment, they had forgotten about him. Although the trio had stopped taking precautions against Malfoy listening in, he had never tried to take part in their conversations before. But of course, the first and only time he did, Malfoy just had to add fuel to the fire.

Hermione glared at him before turning to Harry, expecting her friend to speak up. However, he remained silent, his shoulders slumped as though he was also blaming himself. She knew that it had been the effect of Ron’s words rather than Malfoy’s, but she couldn’t help feeling more irritated towards the latter. Hermione wheeled around to face him fully, and the jerk even had the audacity to smirk.

“Well, it seems that you have failed to live up to the expectations of everyone in this tent, Potter.”

“The only expectation you had when you came with us was to keep your pitiful little life,” she snapped. “And so far it’s been fully satisfied, so don’t you dare—”

“No, he’s right, Hermione,” said Ron. “We expected more from you, Harry. We thought Dumbledore had told you what to do, we thought you had a real plan!”

“I told you everything Dumbledore told me,” said Harry calmly, but Hermione could see the hurt and anger in his eyes at the suggestion that his closest friends had suspected him of holding things back.

And just like that, the argument started up again despite her attempt to appease both Ron and Harry. The addition of Malfoy’s sarcastic comments only made it worse.

“Enough!” she shouted at last. For once, the cacophony of voices in the tent was replaced with the pitter-patter of the rain outside. In a quieter tone, Hermione said, “Ron, please, take off the locket. You wouldn’t be talking like this if you hadn’t been wearing it all day.”

Ron wrenched the chain from his neck and handed it to her begrudgingly, as though the only reason he complied was so that she wouldn’t yell at them again. Hermione thrust the Horcrux into her jeans pocket instead of wearing it. Despite its importance, she couldn’t afford to lose her temper now. Yet, she found her hands clenched into fists as her eyes landed on Malfoy.

Hermione wondered whether she and her friends should have wiped his memory and sent him back to Voldemort like they had Dolohov and Rowle. She should have known better, and being the first to relent to Malfoy’s begging back then, she felt responsible for his horrendous attitude now.

“Ron was not being himself, but you! You’ve got no excuse to be unpleasant—”

“What are you implying?” It was not Malfoy who interrupted her, and Ron’s cutting tone made her flinch. “Are you comparing me to _him_?”

“No, Ron, I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t—”

“You did,” he said, with such finality that she could find no words to respond.

Hermione was still rather stunned when Ron stormed out of the tent, but she soon ran after him despite the torrential rain. She could feel tears building at the back of her eyelids as she called out to him. All she got in reply was a faint _pop_ as Ron Disapparated.

She came back to the tent, soaking wet and trembling from head to toe, though she knew that the break in her voice had little to do with it. “He’s g-g-gone!”

Her eyes found Harry’s, and he gave her a sad little nod. “It’s not your fault, Hermione,” he said, grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around her shoulders. “He would have left anyway. He didn’t see any point in continuing with us.”

Harry climbed up to his bunk without another word, and Hermione could not begrudge him for it. They both needed time to process everything. Clutching the blanket closer to herself, she made her way towards the dining table, resolutely averting her eyes from Ron’s empty bunk. She supposed that would put her in Malfoy’s company. However, considering the fact that he had not spoken since her return, she could at least hope he would leave her be.

Hermione sat down on the nearest chair and buried her face in her hands. Although she didn’t want to cry in front of Malfoy, the tears started falling anyway.

“Look, Granger, I didn’t mean for it to get out of hand.”

It was easy for him to say. After all, Malfoy’s best friend had not just walked out on him. The retort did not make it past her lips, however; she didn’t have the energy for yet another argument. Instead, she ignored him.

“I was content to stay on the sidelines, but then you three got news from those you care about. I know it isn’t great, but it’s still _something_. And I... I am impatient to see You-Know-Who defeated, too, so that I can—” Malfoy cut himself off as he realised that Hermione had stopped crying and looked up at him. She was startled by how much she could relate to his words. Unfortunately, Malfoy’s unreadable expression prevented her from telling whether he was being honest in the first place. He looked away from her gaze before patting her knee lightly and standing up. “At least I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Hermione twisted around in her chair to stare at Malfoy’s retreating back as he headed towards the bunks. Did he really just try to comfort her? A wave of paranoia hit her, and she hastily reached down to check for the hawthorn wand she had hidden in her left boot, letting out a sigh at the confirmation that it was still there.

“You only stay because you don’t have a choice,” she said softly.

Malfoy stopped in his tracks for the briefest moment but then continued as though he had not heard her.

*

Ron’s absence was taking its toll on both Harry and Hermione. After their brief exchange that night, she had a feeling that Harry was holding himself responsible for Ron’s departure, but she could not find a way to broach the topic, especially when she was also blaming herself. Day after day, they skirted around anything and everything Ron-related even more fervently than avoiding Voldemort’s tabooed name; and yet, the gaping hole Ron’d left behind was always present. What little faith they still had in the mission dwindled—they were nowhere nearer to figuring out the sword’s location. However, the emotional fallout was not their only problem. If the task of wearing the Horcrux and keeping watch at night had been difficult when shared among three people, it was downright onerous now with Ron gone. While neither she nor Harry complained about it, she knew that they both felt the exhaustion acutely.

Hermione could not decide whether she was grateful or disappointed that Malfoy had once again fallen back into the role of a spectator. Granted, they did not trust him enough to share any of the tasks, but she had half-expected that he would get involved in the conversations every now and then, maybe even contribute some ideas on finding the next Horcrux or the sword. She had not gone as far as hoping that he would succeed where she and Harry had failed, though perhaps it would at least make her feel that the two of them weren’t alone in their endeavour. Then again, it was just as likely that Malfoy’s version of participating in the discussions would consist solely of sarcastic gibes at Ron’s abandonment or their general incompetence. Just when Hermione finally convinced herself that the return of Malfoy’s aloofness was for the best, he had to go and turn everything upside down again.

It happened one November evening when Hermione was preparing to go outside for the first watch. Dinner had been a modest affair with only some mushrooms that tasted like sawdust in her mouth. She pulled on her coat with a heavy sigh, tucking Slytherin’s locket inside before doing up the last few buttons. The snow had gotten worse in the last few days, and at that moment, all Hermione wanted was to curl up in her bunk and stay there for as long as possible. It was a luxury she could not afford, though. There was always something else that she had to do: keep watch, find food, research their mission. It seemed as though the cycle never ended.

Hermione took a deep breath and straightened up, trying her best to walk normally instead of trudging towards the door.

“Many of your problems would’ve been solved if only you gave me back my wand.”

She whipped around instantly. “I’m sorry?”

“You heard me.” Malfoy looked from her to Harry, who still sat across from him at the dining table. “I can share most of the load—watch duty and the like—if I get my wand back.”

“How do we know that you won’t turn on us?” asked Harry, his misgiving matching Hermione’s own.

“Go back to the Dark Lord, and I’m dead,” said Malfoy matter-of-factly. “As you said, Granger, I don’t have a choice. I’m working with you for my own selfish purpose. What more assurance do you need?”

Although she had to admit that there was some sense in his argument, the notion that they could depend on Malfoy’s help seemed too good to be true. Hermione directed her gaze towards Harry and found that he appeared dubious as well. Perhaps they should just deny Malfoy’s request. It was better safe than sorry, after all.

“You’re both running yourselves to the ground.” Malfoy once again broke the silence. “How long do you two think you can keep this up? Just look at yourself, Granger. It seems like you’re about to drop at any moment.”

His last comment irritated her much more than it should have. “You sound dangerously like you care, Malfoy. It’s a dead give-away that you’re lying.”

At the accusation, Malfoy got to his feet, his chair screeching against the floor. “Of course I care when my welfare is concerned. I am without a means of defending myself except for relying on two zombie-like, incompetent—”

Her hand made contact with Malfoy’s face.

“Hermione!” exclaimed Harry, also standing up as though he was ready to intervene.

Only then did Hermione realise that during the conversation, she had gravitated closer to where Malfoy and Harry sat. The former glared at her, hand cupping his reddening cheek. The mark she left looked painful, and she supposed it was, given that her own hand was still stinging from the slap. Perhaps she had overreacted. However, apologising would mean giving him the upper hand, wouldn’t it? Before Hermione could decide on her next course of action, Malfoy had pushed past her and stormed towards his bunk.

She left the tent quickly afterwards, once she and Harry had reached a silent agreement that there would be no change to their current arrangement. Yet, for the entirety of her watch that night, Hermione could not keep from wondering about Malfoy’s question and the truth in it. How long could they really continue like this?

*

The first thing Hermione registered as she opened her eyes was the warm rays of sunlight on her face. It took only a moment for panic to rise in her chest at the realisation that she was supposed to keep vigil. Hermione scrambled around for her wand, finally finding it amidst the rumpled blanket that had been tossed aside when she woke up. Harry must have brought it out for her and taken over her shift as she fell asleep. The thought made Hermione feel guilty but relieved at the same time.

“Well, I’d hate to say ‘I told you so’.”

Malfoy’s surprisingly cheerful voice made her jump. His allusion to their previous argument notwithstanding, the friendly behaviour was unexpected, even though it had been a week since the incident and they had established a truce of sorts. Not to mention the fact that it was him whom she had to thank. Hermione sat up fully and turned her head towards Malfoy, only to find him engrossed in a book— _her_ book, to be precise. She had meant to reread _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ the night before during her watch. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough,” said Malfoy without looking up. “You slept like a log. We could’ve all been killed last night if I hadn’t—”

“Point taken, Ferret Boy.” All thoughts of gratitude gone, she snatched the book from him with a scowl.

He finally looked at her then. “Just so you know, my offer still stands.”

Hermione did not dignify his statement with an answer, but as she went inside to wake Harry, she decided to convince her friend to give Malfoy a chance anyway. She surprised herself with the vehemence with which she defended the idea even before Harry had the opportunity to refute it. “He could have taken my wand and left, Harry. Or worse. But he didn’t. And I fell asleep last night. I was too stubborn to admit it before, but that’s how exhausted I am, how exhausted we both are.”

Harry gave her an amused smile. “It’s all right, Hermione. I agree that we should at least give him a chance.”

*

It was not until the evening when they’d set up the tent again that the hawthorn wand was returned to Malfoy. Both Hermione and Harry concurred that it would be too difficult to monitor him when they were still on the move. But now that both of them were watching Malfoy closely, it seemed really weird, especially when all he had done so far was to put the wand into the sleeve of his robe. As Malfoy rolled his eyes at the two Gryffindors for the umpteenth time, Hermione exchanged a glance with Harry before announcing that she needed to go out to obtain more food. It wasn’t strictly necessary, considering the potatoes and beef they still had left from yesterday, but no one opposed her attempt at relieving the awkwardness.

The last thing Hermione expected to see upon her return was Malfoy cooking at the stove and an amused Harry watching from the living area. Harry made an excuse to go outside as soon as she entered, and Hermione grimaced at the thought that they were taking turns keeping surveillance on Malfoy as well. _It’ll get better in time_ , she reassured herself before putting the mushrooms she’d collected down on the kitchen table. Malfoy did not acknowledge her presence as he continued to wave his wand in circular motions above a steaming pot.

Hermione made her way towards the counter and leaned on an unoccupied spot so that she could get a better look at Malfoy’s face, though succeeding only in observing his profile. “If you’re doing this just to get into our good graces...” she began.

“Potter has already given that lecture,” he said. “But you can go on ahead. I would love a repeat.”

She responded to his sarcasm with a quirked eyebrow.

“For your information,” he continued, “not everything is about the two of you.”

“Then why are you doing this?” Even though Malfoy could not see the gesture, she motioned to the potatoes that were currently peeling themselves in the far corner of the counter.

“Because I enjoy it.”

Hermione laughed incredulously. Realising that it was the first time she had laughed since Ron left, she was not even annoyed at the ridiculous excuse. “You enjoy cooking?”

Malfoy gave an exasperated sigh. “Not cooking. Using magic. And since you and Potter are gonna be suspicious no matter what, I might as well use it for something beneficial.”

“Oh.” He was giving her the real reason, and all of a sudden, Hermione did not know what to say.

Malfoy seemed to interpret her silence as a sign of disbelief, though, for he added, “When you’ve been deprived of something for so long, even the smallest bit of it makes a difference.”

An unexpected flood of memories flashed in her mind, and she blinked rapidly to dispel the prickling in her eyes. “Yes.” Her voice sounded a bit shaky. “Yes, I suppose it does.” She hesitated momentarily but then decided that if Malfoy had opened up to her—however minutely—then she should at least return the favour. “When I was little, my parents did not allow me to eat sweets at all. They only made an exception during Christmastime. You wouldn’t believe how excited I used to get over just a tiny candy cane.”

At the memory of her mother trying to placate her six-year-old self on a sugar high, Hermione let out a quiet chuckle, but it was quickly replaced by a painful lump in her throat. “I really miss them,” she said, causing Malfoy to stop stirring the stew and turn to her.

As their eyes met this time, she had no doubt what his expression meant, and warmth filled her chest. He understood.

*

It took them three more days to finally let Malfoy keep watch, but after that, things quickly fell into place. A tentative trust had been built, and when they finally made plans to go to Godric's Hollow, no one questioned his involvement. They had procured the hair of a Muggle couple and their teenage daughter as disguises, much to Malfoy’s dismay, but aside from grumbling about having to transform into a girl, he had been contributing to the plan as much as Harry and Hermione.

No one suspected that he would disappear on the evening before the “big day”. Hermione had gone out to buy them some food from the super market, thinking that Malfoy was staying in the tent with Harry. Meanwhile, Harry thought Malfoy was accompanying her.

It was when Hermione came back that they finally discovered Malfoy was gone and grasped his true intention: to wait for them to let their guard down so that he could easily get away. The only consolation was that they had not let Malfoy wear the locket—not yet anyway. She was sure that if he hadn’t shown his true colours now, they would have trusted him with it soon. Hermione tried her best to force down her anger to think rationally and figure out their next step. In the end, both she and Harry agreed that their only chance of getting the sword of Gryffindor was to get to Godric’s Hollow tonight, before Malfoy could bring the information back to Voldemort. Although this new plan posed a terrible risk, it simply needed to be done.

What she’d never expected was that Malfoy would show up that night in Godric’s Hollow, not as a part of Voldemort’s army but as an ally helping them escape the monster’s clutches.

*

Hermione staggered as she landed on the snow-clad ground. Even though half of Harry’s weight was supported by Malfoy, the remaining half, coupled with the disorientation of Apparation, was enough to send her stumbling. Her eyes scanned the dark wood around her before fixing on Malfoy, whose face was illuminated by the light of his wand. He looked almost normal now, with the effect of the glamour charm wearing off and the dark hair fading into his natural blond.

She got to her feet, still a little out of breath. “We really got away?”

Malfoy nodded before slowly disentangling himself from Harry, who was still delirious. “I’ll put up the enchantments and take the first watch. You’ll be all right with him?”

Hermione hesitated. Did she really want Malfoy to be the one putting up the wards? Then again, if he had wanted to betray them, they wouldn’t have made it this far, would they? After fighting against the snake and escaping together, she desperately wanted to trust him; and yet, the remaining gaps in his story prevented her from doing so fully. At that moment, Harry’s strangled cry decided it for her. Tending to Harry was imperative, and her only option was to trust Malfoy with the rest. She gave him a small nod and watched briefly as he set out to cast the spells in the area around them.

Hermione quickly retrieved the tent from her beaded bag, setting it up with a flick of her wand. She Levitated Harry inside and onto one of the lower bunks. The Horcrux proved impossible to remove without a Severing Charm, and she did not have any special remedy for the snake bite. Hermione knew that this was what she should focus on, but a part of her was still anxious about what Malfoy was doing outside the tent, about whether there would be Death Eaters barging in at any minute. It was an almost irrational fear, she had to admit. After all, she had come to the conclusion that the snake must have been a trap that Voldemort had set up long before; otherwise, he could have ambushed Harry and her himself instead of waiting for the snake’s signal. It surely had not been Malfoy’s fault, and she was inclined to believe what he’d told her prior to being interrupted by the sound of the struggle between Harry and Nagini. Malfoy had said he’d only meant to leave temporarily without anyone even noticing his absence. But that would hardly explain how he’d managed to find her in Godric’s Hollow, let alone in that exact house; it hardly explained why he’d wanted to get away in the first place.

As soon as Harry had drifted into a less fitful sleep, she went out to check on Malfoy. Finding the familiar sight of him sitting on the ground, leaning back against their tent—as he had always done while keeping watch—Hermione let out a sigh of relief. She would still need to hear his explanation before their trust could be rebuilt, but for now, she knew that they were safe. She settled herself down next to Malfoy and noticed that he had already water-proofed the surface for her.

“I knew you would come out here,” he said simply. “And I’m ready for the interrogation.”

Drawing her knees closer to herself, she smiled slightly and decided that she would cut to the chase as well. “How did you find me in Godric’s Hollow?”

“I’ve got a tracking spell on your book, just in case I need to find my way back.”

Hermione frowned. He had never gotten near her books since they’d given back his wand. But then, comprehension slowly dawned on her. “So you _did_ take my wand that night.”

“Only to return it later,” said Malfoy.

And that was what mattered, she realised. It was no longer just speculation on her part; he _truly_ could have taken off with her wand, but he had not. And the reason why he’d used her wand stunned her into speechlessness. Perhaps he did choose to stay.

“I went out tonight because I wanted to get this.” Malfoy reached into the inside of his robe and took out a small string bag. “Too bad they are all in pieces now.”

As Malfoy emptied the contents of the bag into his left palm, Hermione drew in a sharp breath. Tiny red and white crystallised pieces glistened in the wan moonlight, and among them, a few bigger ones still showed familiar-looking stripes. He didn’t have to say more because they both knew whom the present was for, and it made her choke up a little on the next question. “Why?”

“For the past month, you haven’t allowed a single moment to yourself; it’s extremely depressing to watch.” He placed his free hand on her shoulder tentatively. “Have you ever thought that every so often you should forget about survival, forget about the final destination and just enjoy living?”

“I can’t believe I’d hear this from you of all people,” she blurted.

He withdrew his hand then. “Of course, it must be unthinkable for Draco Malfoy to be nice to someone.” Although his tone was light, she could still detect a hint of uncertainty in it.

“No, it’s not that,” exclaimed Hermione, perhaps too quickly, because Malfoy gave her a doubtful look.

Her cheeks heated up despite the chilly air, and she fiddled with a loose strand of her hair. “Well, perhaps it is—a little. But mostly, I just can’t imagine you forgetting about survival.” She shook her head as though the mere thought was ludicrous.

“Then how did you expect me to stay sane during the last year and a half?” His lips curled up in a half-smile, and his eyes seemed to look far-away for a moment. “I could never indulge myself more than a few minutes, but it was enough.” He sat up a little straighter and inhaled deeply. “Perhaps you should try it sometime?” Malfoy turned to her with a real smile this time and extended the broken candies in his hand.

“Thank you,” she replied, a little breathlessly, as she took a piece of candy cane from his open palm. The shard was small enough to fit entirely in her mouth, and she let its sweetness melt with a contented sigh. The familiar flavour conjured up childhood memories, as it always did, but for once, she enjoyed them for what they were: happy memories. She realised that she was enjoying this exact moment, too—simply sitting here and savouring a bit of Christmas spirit with him. “I suppose it is not so bad,” she whispered.

Malfoy’s smile turned into a grin that lit up his whole face, and she returned it, appreciating that it was the first time she had seen him so open and blissful. This was as rare a moment for him as it was for her, and they were both determined to make it last. They finished up the three candy canes he had bought much more slowly than they should have and sat in companionable silence for a while.

“I should probably go check on Harry,” said Hermione as she stood up and brushed off the snow from her clothes. Malfoy nodded in understanding. They would both have to go back to the world of worries and responsibilities eventually.

 _But I won’t be drowning in it this time_ , mused Hermione as she ducked inside the tent, the refreshing taste of peppermint still lingering on the tip of her tongue.

**Author's Note:**

> My original prompt was "candy canes". 
> 
> Some of the dialogue in the first scene has been taken either verbatim or with modification from _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - Chapter 15 - The Goblin's Revenge._
> 
> Due to the word limit, I had to condense a few scenes before the final one, but I totally hope that I'll be able to post a full version in the future ;)


End file.
